


Sashes, Swords, and Second Chances

by shopfront



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Reality, F/M, Pirates, Princes, Role Reversal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-21 05:47:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16570790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shopfront/pseuds/shopfront
Summary: When Emma picks up an enchanted necklace, she doesn't realise it's going to take her to Killian - and their best chance right now to be together.





	Sashes, Swords, and Second Chances

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jeffgoldblumvevo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeffgoldblumvevo/gifts).



> Set in an unspecified point in early-mid canon, prior to Emma and Hook's canon relationship.

“I knew I shouldn’t have picked that up,” Emma said the moment her feet touched solid ground again. “Dammit, when will I learn?”

She wobbled for a moment as the purple cloud that made up the portal dropping her the rest of the way to the ground. Then she huffed and kicked at a nearby stone - and ended up yelling again as the soft, thin material of her slippers proved utterly unable to stand up to the impact. Slippers that she had most definitely not been wearing when she’d been whisked away from Storybrooke.

The portal hesitated above her head for a moment as she cast about for the necklace that had been in her hand moments before, as if it was distracted by the sound of her voice. But then it continued on its way. It left an empty night sky behind it, one growing clearer by the moment as the cloud disappeared. Everything around her was just as still and empty, save for light that spilled out of large windows and into the courtyard Emma now found herself in. By the time the portal had disappeared from view completely she was halfway through a particularly inventive string of words she’d picked up from Hook. Still limping slightly from the stone, an unexpected voice brought her to an abrupt halt.

“You want to put what, where?”

Emma froze, one hand gesturing mid-air and the other clutching her hip as she made another vain attempt to force her foot to bear her full weight. “Um,” she said as she turned around slowly, carefully trying to pivot on one foot without falling. Once she had, she found herself looking down at a young boy with an odd expression on his face - half appalled, but a little bit intrigued. “Just, um- Yeah look, kid. Never mind. Just… do me a favour and pretend you didn’t hear that, yeah? Or at least don’t tell your parents.”

The boys brow furrowed as he stepped back, looking her up and down with wary scrutiny. The brightness of his eyes caught her off guard for a moment, reflecting blue in the lamplight as he moved. The same blue as the silky looking sash that was wrapped around his torso and matched the embroidery on the edges of his sleeves and the hem of his pants.

Emma stared for a long moment, eyes flicking from his clothes to the courtyard. It was paved in large stones like the loose one she’d kicked, she saw now, and surrounded on three sides by yet more stone that rose up into the walls of a castle. The open end of the courtyard faded away quickly into shadows, giving only the faintest glimpse of grass and a very dark, very unlit expanse of unbroken forest beyond it. By the time she’d finished taking it all in and turned back to the boy, her stomach sinking like a stone, he had already backed several feet further away.

“Wait,” she said weakly, extending a hand as she tried to force a shaky smile onto her face. “I’m sorry. Did I scare you? I didn’t mean to. Could you tell me where I am?”

The boy hesitated on the edge of the courtyard, inches away from a partially open door. “You’re in the King’s castle,” he said slowly, as if he was talking to a dolt of unimaginable proportions.

“Right, sure, of course,” Emma said, nodding a little too enthusiastically. “But I don’t suppose you know which King it is, do you? Are we in the Enchanted Forest?”

Confusion crossed the boys face. “The Enchanted- No, I haven't heard of a forest like that. The King is my father, and the only forest he rules over is the Great Forest out there,” he said. His hand rose absently to touch the sash around his chest, and then strayed up towards his throat, hovering over a tiny lump beneath his clothes - like a necklace, or some other ornament was hung around his neck and tucked out of sight. Something about the movement, the guarded hesitation of it as if he feared giving away something precious but couldn’t stop himself, struck a cord with Emma. A faint sensation plucking away at her memories, as if something she couldn’t quite recognise in this strange land was familiar to her.

Even though it couldn’t be.

Before Emma could ask him who his father was again, the boy’s confusion was replaced by a look of deep alarm. A familiar wind started to lick at Emma’s heels, and she groaned in resignation as she looked up. Up, into the deep purple cloud of the portal, as it stretched into a funnel, reaching towards her once more.

She had just enough time for one last glance at the boy, who had one hand in a white knuckle grip around the edge of the door and the other raised. To shield his eyes or reach for her, she couldn't see. Before she could say more than ‘not agai-’, she was whisked up and away, the courtyard and the boy and the starry night sky disappeared from view.

*

This time when she began to touch down to solid ground again Emma only let herself make a deep - if muffled as she clenched her jaw against the involuntary sound - noise of frustration. But no stones appeared to tempt her into denting her toes this time. As she was dropped the rest of the way to stand on her own two feet, the ground beneath her creaked and groaned. No, the wood, she realised. Startled by the noise it made as she settled, she flailed backwards, nearly going feet over head before a firm hand gripped her by the elbow.

“Careful there,” a warm voice said in her ear, chuckling as she was righted and held steady until she’d finally  found her balance.

As soon as she had, Emma tried and failed to wrench her arm away, wobbling a little again in the process. Her other hand strayed briefly to her elbow like an afterthought as she turned within the grip of the person who held her, before she raised it to block the bright sunlight from her eyes. “I was fine!” she snapped, squinting. “You didn’t need to-”

It took her a moment to catch her bearings and see through the glare. Once she had, blue eyes met hers. They widened in a mirror of her own as she stared back at them in disbelief.  She tried to shake off her shock, and the distant sound of voices and the thump of wood against wood caught her attention, but Emma dismissed it all just as quickly.

“Hook? What are you… how did you-,” Emma started to say, then stopped herself and shook her head. “Did the portal get you, too?”

Those blue eyes narrowed just as quickly, though one eyebrow also quirked up in response to her question. He looked her up and down for a long moment. “Portal? Who is ‘Hook’?”

Emma shook her head and stared for second, then broke out into a wary laugh. “Stop messing around. We need to figure out how to get back before that thing returns. Who knows where it'll send us next,” she said as she rolled her eyes and began to turn away, only to come up short again when Hook still failed to release her.

“I am doing nothing of the sort,” he replied, a look of bemused confusion on his face. Frowning, Emma hesitated.

“Alright then, what _are_ you doing?”

“Merely assisting my men in their efficient search of the docks by rescuing ladies before they might walk into the melee,” Hook said, a broad smile finally settling into place as he gave a little bow of his head.

Emma snorted. “I’m no lady,” she said and pulled her arm free. This time Hook let her go, though she only made it a few steps away before a rustling noise caught her attention. Looking down, she groaned. “Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” she said and stamped her - most likely slipper clad once more by the feel of things - foot under a rather voluminous skirt. Looking around herself again, she took in the sight of what were yes, indeed, docks. Uniformed soldiers were clustered a few feet away, rummaging through boxes stacked near a ship and arguing with what appeared to be sailors.

“I beg your pardon,” Hook said cautiously from behind her, interrupting her attempt to assess her surroundings. “But you look rather familiar. Are you a member of my father’s court?”

Emma blinked. “Father?” she asked over her shoulder, her eyes still fixed on the soldiers. Soldiers with blue arm bands on their jackets and flying blue pennants.

“Yes, my father-”

“-The King,” Emma finished for him. Foreboding began to settle over her as she started to back away, and a familiar look of intrigue crossed Hook’s face. “I should go.”

Hook opened his mouth, but before he could speak one of the soldiers called over to them. “Prince Killian,” the soldier called, waving an arm to get their attention. Emma looked at the soldier, and then back at Hook, who sighed.

“If you’ll wait just one moment,” he said, holding out a hand with a beseeching expression on his face. “I’d really like to talk-”

“Yeah, no. Sorry. I don’t make a habit out of talking to Princes,” Emma said firmly, putting some speed behind her steps, before giving up any pretence and spinning on her heel to hurry away as quickly as she could when hampered by a giant dress. Hook called after her to wait, but she had already ducked behind a stack of boxes and hopped neatly up over the side of the docks and onto the cobblestones of a street. Her dress nearly tripped her up, tangling around her briefly in an unholy mess of fabric and tulle before parting neatly at the sides with the faint sound of a few stitches ripping.

Emma buried her hands in the fabric as she stood up again in the street, shaking it until it hung loose once more, and to her surprised pleasure previously concealed slits parted, allowing her more freedom to move. A glint caught her eye as she examined the cuts in the fabric, and when she reached for it she found a long, wicked looking blade tucked neatly into the folds.

“What on Earth-,” she started to say as she pulled it out, holding it up to the light and staring at it in disbelief. But a shout nearby startled her, causing her to drop the knife as she turned towards the sound. A stranger was cowering in the gutter and pointing at the sky above her head.

Resigned, Emma continued raising her eyes up to follow the line of his arm until she found purple clouds descending once more towards her.

*

This time, when the portal released her it made no attempt to do so at ground level. Emma dropped through the extra foot of space with a yelp, landing on her hands and knees. The first thing she checked were her clothes. With some confusion and a lot of relief, she found boots and leather pants instead of slippers and ridiculous puffy dresses… and a long cutlass hanging off her hip. Muttering to herself, she examined the sword carefully but resisted the urge to draw it, or to try and untangle it from her belt, before she stood up.

Once she had, she immediately fell back down on one knee as the ground beneath her feet rolled and pitched. Swearing under her breath, she grabbed for the nearest support - boxes, yet more boxes, stacked along the wooden wall of a small, windowless cabin - as a familiar voice sung out from the doorway beside the boxes

“There you are, love,” Hook said, his tone fond. And it was Hook this time, it must be, because instead of fancy clothes and blue sashes, he wore a sensible set of trousers and a billowing white shirt. Emma’s eyes travelled up his body slowly, taking it all then, and then she blinked as she found an unhappy expression above that did not match his words. “Whatever are you doing in here?” he asked as he pushed off the doorframe and stepped towards her.

Emma’s mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, lost for words as Hook approached and tugged her up and into his arms before she could resist him. Then he hissed furiously in her ear.

“We had a deal. One that I will not uphold if you give the game away,” he whispered, then pulled back to smile at her. As he did, two more men Emma didn’t recognise appeared in the doorway as well, leering as they took in the sight of Emma and Hook’s embrace.

“Just getting some… sea air?” Emma replied awkwardly as she patted Hook on the chest and stretching her lips into something that might have but probably didn’t quite resemble the smile she’d intended.

Hook tilted his head, eyebrows drawing down as he searched her face. Then he forced a chuckle as he gestured to the room they stood in. “A very funny joke. You wanted some time alone with me, then?” he asked. His eyes flicked ever so briefly to the side as he spoke, however. Towards the others. Emma nodded quickly, and then waited. The silence stretched between them, and Hook’s expression tightened slightly, his eyes darting more furiously to the side a second time.

Oh.

“Aye,” she said hurriedly to the two men. When they gaped at her stupidly, she stood up straighter in Hook’s arms and screwed up her face in anger. “Leave us!”

Both of them jumped, as if shocked, and scurried away. Hook waited for a long moment until their footsteps faded, followed by the brief sound of drunken singing and the clanging of a door - or hatch - swinging shut once more. Emma went to speak, but Hook held a finger to her lips, waiting, and then waiting longer still. Finally, apparently satisfied with the length of the silence, he stepped back and dropped his arms from around her waist.

Emma shivered briefly at the loss of warmth.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” Hook asked. He rubbed a hand over his mouth, pitching his voice low as he looked at her.

Taken aback, Emma just cocked her head and stared back at him in silence.

“You’re not her, you’re… the woman who disappeared into the purple storm. The woman on the docks,” he said, starting forward to take her by the hands. Emma flinched, automatically trying to draw away, and he let her go, looking lost. “You’re the one I was really searching for.”

Emma’s eyebrows flew up. “You’ve been searching for me? Why?”

“I was never quite sure myself,” Hook said quietly. He raised a hand to her cheek, and then hesitated before he could make contact.

A bang sounded down the corridor before he could finish the movement, and he turned away with a tortured sound. The noise of drunken partying came drifting into the room once, and then Emma jumped as Hook swung back towards her, leaning in close.

“Quick, you must listen to me,” he said urgently, voice even lower still. “Your crew- her crew- well, this is gosh darn confusing isn’t it. But they don’t know who I am, and certainly not that I’m a Prince. I got stuck on this godforsaken island in search of you, so I made a deal with your… other half. She ferries me back, pretending I’m her newest toy, and in exchange I allow her to take her pick of the royal jewels.”

“Other- Wait, _what_?” Emma asked. But Hook just let out a groan as footsteps sounded in the hall, and then he took her in his arms again. For a moment, Emma wasn’t sure whether to lament or be grateful for the lack of puffy skirts between them. Hook put a hand in the small of her back so he could swing her back first against the nearest box, edging a leg between hers to pin her there. His other hand slipped up her back, making her shiver, until he could cradle her head in the broadness of his palm and tilt her head to slot their lips carefully together.

Faintly, Emma registered the sound of those footsteps coming a sudden stop, still out in the corridor, as Hook deftly parted her lips with his tongue and groaned in an altogether different fashion. To her own surprise, she echoed him with a moan of her own, lost in the heat of his mouth and the weight of him against her.

Quickly, the footsteps retreated. Hook wasn’t quite so fast to pull back however, lingering against her as he trailed smooth fingertips - those of a Prince, not a Pirate, who probably hadn’t worked a day in his life until recently, she realised distantly - across her jaw and down her neck before finally pulling away. A faint flush had stolen across his cheeks, and when he wet his lips Emma couldn’t quite restrain her tongue from copying that movement, too.

His eyes flew to her mouth and then away. “I apologise,” he said, voice rough, as he stepped back. The movement made his shirt shift, and a familiar glint of purple caught Emma's eye, sparkling in its delicate gold setting despite the dim light in the bowels of the ship. “It has been… difficult, to keep up a convincing ruse. You- She- I know not what method through which the ship will return to my Father’s kingdom, but all aboard covet the secret intensely and like to question my presence here. They could easily shift to questioning you as well if they notice something amiss.”

“Of course,” Emma said, shrugging with casualness she didn’t feel. “I understand.”

“Do you know… will you be here long? Will the magic last, keep you in her place?” Hook asked. Emma opened her mouth to answer, and then paused, realising she couldn’t, so she shrugged again and bit her lip. Idly she reached out a hand, hesitating before she could make contact with the offending jewel. He pressed closer at that, an inscrutable look on his face, and quickly Emma shifted her hand to the side to avoid making contact with the necklace.

“I was never there long, the other two times,” she finally offered as explanation, speaking slowly as she tried to piece together what might have happened. “I've already been here longer than either of those times though, so I don’t really know.”

Hook - no, Prince Killian, Emma corrected herself - reached for her again, his hand hovering hesitantly above her hip. “So the purple storm might take you again at any moment,” he said, downcast.

Emma let one corner of her mouth quirk up as she ducked her head to meet his downcast eyes. Then she deliberately, slowly, dropped her hand away from the necklace completely. Instead, she reached for his hand and nudged it the rest of the way until it made contact with leather and skin.

“Well, you’re not like the Killian I know,” she said thoughtfully, smirking when his head shot back up. Curiosity was written in every line of his face. “If it could be back at any moment, maybe we should make the most of whatever time we do have?”

He blinked, and then smiled. As he did, stress and lines she hadn’t even really noticed on his face melted away. Ones that had made him like Hook. They left behind the face of the gallant, well-dressed man she’d met on the docks not even half an hour before.

“It wouldn’t do for those ruffians out there to suspect anything was amiss,” Killian said slowly as he leant in, tightening his grip on her hip and raising his other hand to caress her cheek, as he’d restrained himself from doing earlier.

Emma just hummed in agreement as their lips met again, and let herself be lost in his kiss. At least until the portal could return and sweep her away again.

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeknownst to Emma and Prince Killian, the longer they spent kissing in Captain Swan's storage hold while anchored off the shore of Neverland, the longer Hook spent desperately sword fighting with Captain Swan through the streets of Storybrooke.


End file.
